


gambler's fallacy (the monte carlo remix)

by inverse



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gambling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-14 03:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2176143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inverse/pseuds/inverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1913, at the Monte Carlo Casino in Monaco, black came up on a game of roulette a record consecutive twenty-six times. By the fifteenth time black showed up, players were putting all their money on the red slots, believing that after such an unusual streak, the chances of the ball landing on black again were near to nil. Needless to say, the casino profited in the excess of millions of francs that night.</p><p>This phenomenon, whereby one wrongly attributes a pattern to a series of independent events, is known as the gambler’s fallacy. Due to the notoriety of the aforementioned anecdote, it is also known as the Monte Carlo fallacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gambler's fallacy (the monte carlo remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carpfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpfish/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Gambler's Fallacy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/911791) by [carpfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpfish/pseuds/carpfish). 



> Information about the nature and origin of the gambler's fallacy as cited in the summary was sourced from [this webpage](http://www.fallacyfiles.org/gamblers.html).

I.

To cheat, you need a plan. To take revenge, you need a plan as well.

 

*

 

Haizaki meets Hanamiya in a casino on a cruise ship headed for Qingdao. It is a game of baccarat and Haizaki has one lousy card stuffed up the sleeve of his denim jacket, having swapped the real thing for his winning card – a six of spades he’d prepared earlier that evening when the dealer wasn’t looking. A middling number like that is a good number to have when playing a game that’s based on addition and sum totals – the best possible hand in baccarat is a nine. At the end of the night he ends up with just slightly over eighty thousand yen, having squandered some money at the poker tables and the roulette wheels as well. Getting away with cheating is thrilling, but so is the pure unadulterated joy of gambling itself – putting in the collateral and watching it all come back twofold, threefold, tenfold, if you’ve got the luck. There’s no beating that feeling. Well, whatever. Money is still money whether one earns it from gambling or cheating, and it can still be spent. It is fast approaching midnight and he heads to the bar to celebrate what he’s earned with a drink or two. Buy some girl a fruity, watery cocktail and haul her back to his room. That’s when he notices that his wallet is missing.

He’s about to blow a fuse – one hundred percent certain that the old geezer next to him at the roulette had filched it when he wasn’t looking – when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“Is this yours?” a young man asks, holding out Haizaki’s wallet. His voice is like honey. “I found it.”

“We don’t usually conduct low-budget affairs like this,” Hanamiya explains later as they nurse glasses of cheap red wine on the lower deck, looking out towards the sea. “But we are en route to Shanghai and the tickets to this cruise came at a discount, thanks to a connection. There was a casino on board. We just couldn’t resist. Who’d say no to some loose change?” It’s not much of a view with nothing but black water and black sky in sight, and Hanamiya’s face is shrouded in shadows. He fancies himself a “professional cheat” – earlier on he’d pointed out accomplices, hiding in plain sight on various locations on the ship. A dead-eyed man who’d also won something close to five hundred thousand yen at the very baccarat table Haizaki was at. His friend with a mousy brown dye job, who made a huge racket about it. A mature-looking guy sleeping in an armchair in the lounge, mask over his eyes to keep the light out. A youngster with messy bangs hovering over a buffet table in the dining hall.

“Sure,” Haizaki leers, already thinking of a way to turn the situation to his advantage, “but why are you telling me this? I could turn you over to security right now. They’d pay me for tipping them off, surely.”

“I thought you might be interested,” Hanamiya shrugs, “from the way you switched those cards so expertly just now. Pardon my friend – you were so good that he couldn’t help noticing, although that’s somewhat of a paradox in itself … Whatever it is, you were not noticed by an untrained eye, so you must do this often.” He smiles, noticing that the smug expression has slid off Haizaki’s face. “But you could be doing better.”

“I’m sorry that I looked through your wallet after I found it. I had to return it to its owner, after all,” he continues, simpering. The lie is not convincing. “But a hundred thousand is too little for someone of your calibre. If you aimed a little higher, you could get a million. Even ten million is not out of the question on a good night. That’s about what we all get each time we operate.”

“Per person?”

“Per person.” Hanamiya drinks from his glass, then swirls the burgundy liquid around in a few smooth twirls of his wrist. “If you don’t believe me, I’d like to invite you for a trial run. We’ll show you the ropes. You keep whatever you earn. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like there’s a catch. I’m not dumb.”

Hanamiya chuckles, then runs his tongue across his bottom lip. “See, Haizaki-kun. This is precisely why I want to invite you. You’ve got a propensity for crime and you’ve got some brains to back it up. We could do some great things together, no?” He pauses and makes a show of thinking, then says, licking his lips again, “Twenty percent. That’s all I’m asking. We get a cut, you take the rest. Think that’s a fair price?”

Haizaki can’t help but laugh. “You’re a fucking piece of shit,” he says, “I knew it from the moment I saw you.” They don’t agree on anything. Still, when Haizaki double-checks his wallet again in his own cabin later – clears it out, just to be safe – his money is still intact. There is a note sitting snug within the nest of bills, and it says, in neat, printed handwriting: _The Shangri-la chain is operating a new concept resort on the Bund. The government is finally loosening restrictions on gambling on the mainland. Hundreds of VIPs will be there to witness its opening. I wonder if you would be happy to join us._ On the flip side, there is a date, venue, and time.

 

*

 

A plan for revenge:

 

  1. The whereabouts of the target, obtained from an information dealer.
  2. A fake passport with a clean record, bought off the black market.
  3. A flight from Tokyo to Hong Kong on a cheap budget airline, and then an hour-long ride on a ferry to Macau via a terminal at Sheung Wan, both modes of transport regarding which authorities are likely to be more careless with identities.
  4. Fifty thousand Hong Kong dollars from a local loanshark, just about enough to pretend to be a bona fide patron of a renowned casino.
  5. A shotgun purchased from a low-level gangster. Pay enough and they will cough it up almost all too gleefully.



 

*

 

This is how it goes: Haizaki never really even needs to do anything at all. Before each project Hanamiya will meet him personally and explain the details of the heist – only the details that Haizaki needs to know. Things like which table he should play at, which spare cards he needs to bring, who he needs to watch out for on the floor. Haizaki never knows the full extent of the plans and he never really gets much interaction with the rest of Hanamiya’s little gang, but that’s completely fine by him.

That’s because each and every heist that Hanamiya has pulled has been a resounding success, starting from when he joins them in Shanghai, for the very first time. Everything was just so easy that Haizaki can’t quite forget the sheer effectiveness with which Hanamiya’s plans had worked that night. He still remembers the feeling of absolute disbelief when Hanamiya unearths stacks upon stacks of cash, hands it to him, and announces, a self-satisfied smile on his face, “Your share, Haizaki-kun.” These days Haizaki doesn’t even dream of gambling when he steps into a casino. Why bet on a shaky probability when you can have absolute certainty? Hanamiya contacts him once every few months and the venue is always different, but the payback is constant. Each person involved gets, true to Hanamiya’s word, at least upwards of ten million yen every single time. One particularly lucky night, the six of them get to split twelve million US dollars in profit at a resort casino in Malaysia. Haizaki doesn’t even care that he has to part ways with a fraction of his share as Hanamiya requested. Even after taking away the commission, there was no way he would ever make so much just by himself.

“I’ll see you when I next see you, Haizaki-kun,” is what Hanamiya says at the end of every operation, after he’s packed away the spoils into numerous nondescript black attaché cases in the privacy of a hotel room. The transaction takes place behind closed doors as one of Hanamiya’s other accomplices stands guard outside – Haizaki always waits patiently as he watches Hanamiya’s shoulders shift beneath the tailored fabric of the black suit he always wears when they meet, clicking each briefcase shut – neat, smoothed lapels running down the length of his torso, framing a crisp, spotless white shirt. Hanamiya has a curiously slim waist for a man, a curiously lithe stature. Slender and toned, never unhealthily skinny. He looks expensive, like money on legs.

“Sooner rather than later, I hope,” Haizaki always tells him in reply. It’s not really because he’s all that eager to see Hanamiya and his crew again. Money is simply far too easy to spend, especially when you’ve got a lot of it – on luxury goods, on alcohol, on women. All the good things in life.

“Certainly,” Hanamiya comments, smiling wryly. He prepares to leave. “Though I hope the next time, we won’t have to remind you that you can’t cause too much of a scene when we’re executing our plan. May I suggest you cut down on a drink or two? It’s our priority to ensure that we can pull things off quietly and smoothly. Enjoy your rewards. I’ll contact you again.” Who is he to care? They haven’t been caught yet and Haizaki doubts Hanamiya will let that happen. Besides, why the hell would you go to a casino, if not to have as much fun as you can?

Neither Hanamiya nor his acquaintances ever express an interest in joining Haizaki in his post-operation activities, which really makes him wonder what they do with all that cash. Well, as long as the money keeps coming in, there’s no need for something as fleeting as comradeship. The status quo would do. They’re only partners in crime, after all.

 

*

 

Not all plans work, however. To cheat successfully, your plan has to be good. Similarly, for successful revenge, your plan has to be good as well. But when the stakes are so high and failure is not an option, the human mind has a funny habit of shutting out the most obvious and vital caveats in a surprising display of tunnel vision, focusing unwittingly on the end goal, not least when powerful, blinding rage is thrown into the mix. After all, nobody with a cool head ever thinks of taking revenge. Staying composed is of the essence, but accomplishing that is easier said than done. Which is to say, simply walking into a casino intending to shoot somebody in plain sight without any specific ideas for what happens after that is not exactly the cleanest, fuss-free method one could think of, but if you don’t already care about that, then by all means, go ahead.

 

 

 

II.

Hanamiya meets Imayoshi at an illegal gambling den. He is just beginning to explore the sordid world of professional cheating, and a place like that is a good place to get started. Forget all the card-swapping equipment, the loaded dice and the pinhole cameras. Like any other career path, you have to start from the bottom, where you really learn all the tricks of the trade. In a noisy, smoke-filled room in the back of a Kyokuto-run Shinjuku establishment masquerading as a karaoke lounge, Hanamiya finds someone else just like him, someone who doesn’t fit the typical profile of boisterous gangsterism or desperate, balding midlife crisis. Imayoshi is just one year older than he is – moved to the city from Kansai, about to graduate from college, picked up the habit to earn some spare cash. His father and grandfather were both avid gamblers, but they were never really good at it the way that he is, never really good at reading expressions and buttering up dealers and watching for the ways that people would cut their way into decks that were being shuffled, at exactly the right spot, for exactly the right card.

“What about you?” Imayoshi asks Hanamiya later, looking genuinely curious. It is an hour after they’ve left the gambling den, and both have pocketed a small sum in profits. To celebrate, they have supper at a yakitori-ya just two streets down. “I may be an unlikely participant in vice, but to me, you look even unlikelier.”

“Oh, I’m not interested in vice,” Hanamiya tells him, shrugging in an insincere display of indifference. “I’m only interested in money. And what better way to gain large sums of it in the shortest amount of time possible?” He thinks about the way Imayoshi had thrown the banker off his scent at that grimy poker table mere hours ago, time and again, slipping cards in and out of the deck whenever no one was watching. “And besides – you tell me why you do it. It’s because it’s fun, isn’t it?”

Imayoshi grins. His features are arranged on his face such that he rather resembles a snake – a slim face; a pointed chin; small, bright, cunning eyes behind a pair of glasses. “Well, seems like we have a bit in common.”

Some time later, Imayoshi is employed by the securities arm of a lifestyle and entertainment conglomerate that manages several pachinko parlours and is looking to expand. His insider knowledge comes in handy. Hanamiya branches out from doing his own thing to running his own little gang of cheaters. He collects them when he catches them cheating at games, then talks to them and uses his powers of persuasion. He doesn’t pursue the ones who are already too good; just the ones who are adequately smart and out to maximise their wealth, realise that working in numbers increases efficacy, and know that it is too much trouble to back out of a plan like that afterwards. Then, because the cash just isn’t rolling in quick enough from cheating at tiny yakuza-run joints prone to shutting down at the merest sign of police involvement, they start looking elsewhere. Places where people walk boldly and openly into the doors of gaudy, gold-gilded buildings, with the raw, giddy smell of money all over them.

Working at cross-purposes, of course, doesn’t mean that the both of them don’t keep in touch.

 

*

 

A plan for cheating:

 

  * They will be targeting the mahjong tables. The last time they were in the same casino, about eight months ago, they made a killing off of the craps tables. Although it is possible to cheat at the same game again, it would be wiser to play something else.
  * Seto will be playing. All five of them are competent enough at it, but mahjong alone is Seto’s forte. Not that he’s not good at cheating at other games too, but sometimes he doesn’t even need the extra tiles to win a game of mahjong. He will be carrying those tiles with him, of course – made to order to resemble the casino’s in every aspect imaginable. Just in case.
  * Furuhashi and Hara on backup, as spectators. Just a few days ago they obtained the most recently updated floor map of the casino, complete with the positions of all cameras on the mahjong floor. It is not likely that the cameras will be rerouted for at least another month. Hara will assume standing positions to obscure the view. Furuhashi will help observe the hands of other players and communicate information to Seto via coded speech if necessary.
  * Yamazaki to help with distraction should anything happen. In the case of an emergency, his role is to make a fuss over something extremely unimportant and stupid. Even a few seconds of commotion go a long way in helping to divert unwanted attention, should Seto need to cover up his tracks.
  * There is no plan for if things go 100% awry. They never do. Hanamiya is not being complacent; it’s just a fact.
  * Hanamiya doesn’t need to do anything on the night of the operation itself. He’s already thought of all this.



 

Unforeseen circumstances:

Seeing one Haizaki Shougo walk through the doors of the main lobby as he waits for the lift up to the fourth floor – everyone is to arrive there separately. Hanamiya hasn’t seen him in a while. Spending some time in jail has rendered his face older and more weathered. And he’s even wearing dreadlocks, as if that would stop anyone from recognising him. Maybe it was something he picked up in prison. Still, Hanamiya doesn’t expect to see him at all, whether in a casino or elsewhere – if he remembers correctly, Haizaki was supposed to have done at least four years of time. Perhaps he was released early for good behaviour. Hanamiya turns away and enters the lift that has just arrived. Not that he’s afraid or running away. A contingency ceases to be one as soon as it is taken care of. He just needs to think.

 

*

 

“His personality isn’t the best,” Furuhashi says. His disembodied voice sounds even more soulless over the phone, without a face to put to it. “Yamazaki is this close to killing him, so I thought it was a good call to put Yamazaki on the CCTVs for the last few jobs, and not on the floor. But I don’t think it’s an excellent idea to keep him around for too long. He shows off too much. It attracts attention. I’m not sure if you were there the time he harassed a female guest while playing blackjack. Security had to intervene. He almost blew our cover.”

“I remember that,” Hanamiya replies lazily. He is playing absentmindedly with a deck with his free hand – riffling through the top few cards with his thumb as he thinks. “Well, thanks for the input. I suspect I’ll have a solution by the time we meet again.”

Furuhashi ends the call with a click.

Hanamiya weighs his options, though at this stage the options aren’t about whether they should keep Haizaki or not – the options are about how to get rid of him. It’s almost been a full year since he recruited Haizaki. He has to admit – he didn’t pick the right person when he approached him on the cruise ship months ago. Haizaki is loud, flashy, boorish – uses violence in the way that Hanamiya doesn’t like it, and Hanamiya is usually all for employing violence to produce satisfactory results, if need be. He attracts unwanted attention, hassles others in plain sight, never tries to contribute to the group. The measly commission that they get from assisting him is now peanuts in comparison to what they’ve come to be able to earn by themselves, and is more trouble than it’s really worth.

Spreading the deck out across the surface of his desk, faces down, Hanamiya picks one and flips it over. It is the ace of spades. Funny how he always manages to select the card that he’s looking for, but that really comes down to skill rather than luck. When one has control of the situation, everything is so easy. He doesn’t even have to get his own hands dirty. He thinks about what to do with Haizaki for a moment or two, and finally decides that it’s always good to have leverage, whether in the form of a distraction or a bargaining chip.

 

*

 

**RED, 34**

“Martini again? Nice shirt. Trying to blend in, I see. You’re very successful, I must say. Your fashion sense has improved.”

“Should I return the compliment? Nice tie. It looks like one I lost some time ago.”

“Really? This is a favourite of mine. Purple is my favourite colour. I’m not sure you knew that. It’s got a nice pattern on it too, doesn’t it? Come to think of it, I don’t actually wear the colour too often.”

 

**BLACK, 10**

“So what brings you here tonight? I remember that the last time you were on the premises, someone walked away with twenty million playing craps. Unprecedented. Not that I’m implying any correlation, of course. It has to be mere coincidence.”

“Come now, is that the way you talk to an old friend?”

“My apologies. You know that I’ve always had an odd sense of humour.”

 

**BLACK, 17**

“Well, I’ll forgive you, since we’re old friends. And since we’re old friends, might I not offer you a helpful little tip? I just saw a familiar face walk through the doors at the lobby, just half an hour ago.”

“A familiar face? Would it happen to be a familiar face that I should get rid of?”

“Given their track record for crime, I’d say so. It is so very regretful that I was once acquainted with him, I must say. I had no idea they were on the wrong side of the law. And on the wrong side of your employer, consequently. I don’t think I’ve made it up to you yet. How can I do that?”

“You know, do you ever mean what you say? Well, I’ll look into it. Thanks for the heads-up.”

 

**BLACK, 22**

“Black again? This really is no fun. I’m out of chips.”

“Why, were you expecting something else? There are no patterns to roulette, after all. I’ll have you know that we have a good reputation. None of the games in the grounds are rigged, absolutely.”

 

*

 

Imayoshi is busier now, and so is Hanamiya, but they manage, on occasion, to hit up the smaller gambling dens whenever they’re in town at the same time, for old times’ sake. Gambling was more or less the only thing that they did together, but once, when their inhibitions are lowered enough after a sake-fuelled round of bets, Hanamiya discovers Imayoshi’s affinity for tying up his partners with whatever he can get his hands on. But getting his hands and feet bound by ties and belts, he had to admit, was not an altogether unpleasant experience.

“I didn’t think you were such a pervert,” he remarks the morning after, frowning at the red welts on his wrists where Imayoshi had tied him to the headboard of his bed. “To think you look so decent too.”

“Please don’t talk to me right now,” Imayoshi replies, putting on his glasses blearily. “Hangover.”

Hanamiya rather likes keeping these pieces of attire as souvenirs. Imayoshi doesn’t complain even if he notices Hanamiya covertly putting on a particularly beloved tie without telling him – this time (perhaps their fifth), a purple one with a black geometric pattern. He dresses up, weaving a knot into the silk over his shirt as Imayoshi makes himself a martini from behind his home bar. Now that he works at some fancy company in some fancy post and lives in some fancy apartment, his tastes have changed.

“Want one?” he asks Hanamiya, glancing up momentarily from where he’s pouring gin into a cocktail glass. He is wearing an ugly checkered nightgown and there is a bright, angry mark on the exposed skin above his left collarbone. “My colleagues say I make a great martini.”

“No, thank you. Be careful your liver doesn’t rot with all the liquor that you’re consuming. And since when did you become so fond of martinis? Who do you think you are, James Bond? Sitting at a table at the Casino de Monte-Carlo, sipping a martini, playing baccarat?”

“With your blessing, I’ll live for another hundred years yet,” Imayoshi says simply, giving Hanamiya a bland smile. “And besides, Bond likes his martinis shaken, but I really prefer them stirred. They’re smoother on the palate that way.”

There are a couple of beautiful, crystal-clear dice sitting on the edge of the working desk at the far end of the living room. Hanamiya toys with them as Imayoshi makes his drink; they are a little hefty in the palm, heavier than they seem. He gives them a few tosses and they land on the same digits, all three times. “Are these loaded?” he asks. “These aren’t what I would have in mind when you talk about loaded dice.”

“Clever little pieces of engineering, aren’t they?” replies Imayoshi, a pleased grin plastered all over his face, as if describing an extraordinary archaeological find. “Must have cost quite a bit of money to develop. We seized them from a patron a while ago. The lab that we engaged doesn’t have the results out yet, but the best guess at the moment is that they used two clear materials of different densities to make the dice. It’s not apparent if you don’t look closely, and most people don’t. If you shine a light through it, whatever comes out at the other end doesn’t bend evenly. Normally I wouldn’t be involved in such an investigation, but since they’re sending me to my new workplace next month, I guess they’re trying to familiarise me with all the new and funny methods of cheating that people dream up these days. I have to say that people are really getting creative. You could teach me a thing or two, couldn’t you? Ah, take your hand out of your pocket. Please don’t take any of those. I’d get into trouble.”

“Spoilsport,” Hanamiya murmurs.

 

 

 

III.

**Holding Room 3C [CAM #A100913]  
08/08/2014 23:14:41**

I:

You can shoot him in the foot, I guess. Twice, if that makes you happier. One bullet in each foot, so that he can’t run too quickly. But definitely not in the chest, or the abdomen, or the thigh. Anywhere above the knees is off limits. I’m not going to allow that. After all, you just want to see him get his just deserts, right? You just want to see him suffer. Getting shot usually makes people feel like they are suffering, that I can assure you.

H:

I want him to die. I’m gonna blow his brains out. Fuck if I’m listening to you. _[He tries to lunge forward, but the two security guards on either side of him hold him back.]_ I know why you care so much about whether he ends up dead. It’s because he’s your little fucktoy, isn’t it? I saw the both of you just now. Whispering sweet nothings to each other over the roulette table. That’s why you’re trying to save his sorry hide. I’ll tell you who else he’s fucked. Every single person that he’s had the sweet pleasure of doing business with. That includes me. Does that make you mad, huh? I’ve had him so many times that I can’t even keep count. And I’ll tell you right now, when I’m done with him tonight, he’ll be so full of holes that you won’t be able to recognise him.

I:

I appreciate the double entendre, but you’ve really got quite the imagination there. We want him alive because we suspect that he, together with his accomplices, has drained away nearly some forty million US dollars from our premises over the span of the last couple of years. That may not be a large sum in the grand scheme of things, but management is no longer willing to turn a blind eye. The boss of my boss owns that money, and he wants it back, so we have to get it back for him. Besides, he’s really gotten bold lately. He even has a suite booked in his name tonight. The nerve! Now, where were we? Ah, yes. We want him alive because whatever information he has inside that head of his is valuable to us – where our assets have gone, who’s in his network, how he’s doing it. And after we extract that information, well, who knows what will happen to him? And as for you, we could throw you back into prison right now. We don’t usually allow past offenders in here, and we’re perfectly fine with handling him ourselves. Those two shots that I’m willing to grant you are a gesture of goodwill, since you seem so eager to help us capture him. I doubt, though, that it’d be a good idea to open fire in the casino grounds. The rooftop would be a better place to do it. If you’re really willing to go through with this gamble, maybe you’d be open to some suggestions?

 

*

 

Imayoshi meets Haizaki in a holding cell in the back of a casino where he works. It’s the night of the grand opening, and as one of the assistant heads of security, he doesn’t have time to deal with small fry. Policy, however, stipulates that he should at least meet every detainee and learn about the details before deciding whether the higher-ups need to take further action.

“He was caught cheating at baccarat. We found extra cards on him. Said he wanted to see you, Imayoshi-san. Put up quite a resistance,” says one of the guards holding Haizaki back. That would explain the bloody nose and the aftermath of what seems like a punch to the face blossoming all over his swollen left cheek.

“I told them I know Hanamiya,” Haizaki chokes out as Imayoshi inspects the cards. “They said they don’t know him. Hanamiya says you work here. Says he knows you. He says you can help me.”

Imayoshi looks up. He didn’t tell Hanamiya where he was headed for his new posting, but of course Hanamiya would figure it out all by himself. And of course he intended to pay Imayoshi a visit and drop off this surprise gift somewhere along the line. If he’s in the casino somewhere, that probably also means that he’s cheating at one of the tables, on one of the numerous floors. Of all the games to try to play. Just because the two of them know each other doesn’t mean that Imayoshi will let him do what he wants. He’s never mixed his professional and personal lives and is not about to do so.

“Hanamiya? I’ve never heard of such a person,” he tells Haizaki, shrugging and keeping his expression neutral, then watches all the colour drain away from Haizaki’s face. He turns to the guards. “I’m going to need the two of you to keep an eye on him for a while more. There’s something else I need to take care of right now. Have a good day, Haizaki-san.”

None of the security staff manages to locate Hanamiya on the grounds that evening. Someone apparently wins five million US dollars playing poker on just a few thousand dollars’ worth of bets. The dealer was not able to detect anything out of the ordinary. When Imayoshi reviews the video footage later, the lucky guy can be seen sweeping the winning chips towards himself from across the table, expression flat and uninterested. A good poker face indeed. Somehow, Imayoshi feels a little defeated. In return, he sends Haizaki off to the cops, which was what he deserved anyway, given that they had hard proof of what he did. Word has it that they sentence him to four years of time in the end, but by the time that happens, Imayoshi has already forgotten about him.

 

*

 

**Rooftop (West Zone, Suites) [CAM #H2554Z7]  
09/08/2014 00:12:58**

_[One man is cornering another on the rooftop. He is holding a shotgun and pointing it at the other party, but his body language seems hesitant. They seem to be having a conversation. The aggressor seems visibly shaken, his shoulders tense. The defender has his arms raised, backing away to the edge of the cement floor, where a path of bricks lining the perimeter rests between him and the cold, wide, open space outside. From where the camera is, his expression can be seen clearly – a smug, confident one, quite uncharacteristic for someone about to be shot. The aggressor is still hesitant and the defender is speaking. The aggressor takes a step forward. Then, the defender falls backwards and disappears from sight.]_

 

**The Sao Paolo Suites**

Situated on Levels 15 to 18 in the West Zone of our casino grounds, the Sao Paolo Suites are a one-of-a-kind hospitality experience, perfect for both business and pleasure. For the duration of their stay, guests may enjoy complimentary access to the Black Pearl Bar & Lounge, a contemporary Chinese dining concept by the eminent Lee Group of Restaurants, located on Level 8.

None of the Sao Paolo Suites are like any of the others. Each of the 52 unique rooms have been specially designed by renowned architects A&M and decorated in a style that fuses influences from across Japan, Hong Kong and Macau. We are also proud to be the first resort in Asia to unveil an exclusive, award-winning innovation from A&M – the famous protruding “glass cube” balconies with retractable awnings. Enjoy the stunning views of Macau from all three hundred and sixty degrees in the comfort of your suite.

 

**Rooftop Access (West Zone, Suites) [CAM #20039LM]  
09/08/2014 00:12:58**

_[A security squad is lying in wait.]_

 

**Level 18 Corridor (West Zone, Suites) [CAM #8K45331]  
09/08/2014 00:12:58**

_[A security squad is lying in wait.]_

 

*

 

The next time Imayoshi meets Hanamiya, it is almost half a year after Hanamiya pulled what he pulled in Macau. It is Imayoshi who gets wind of the news that Hanamiya is back in Japan after a short tour of Southeast Asia, no doubt stopping by all the casinos that he comes across and siphoning away as much money as he can.

“I didn’t know you missed me so much, you wanted to see me the moment I set foot in the country,” Hanamiya says. Just like old times, they are at a small, cramped, noisy yakuza outlet, and this time they are gambling with hanafuda, the cards old and dog-eared at the edges. They’ve obviously seen better days, but the illustrations on them are still colourful and vivid.

“Couldn’t gamble in a place like this without an old pal by my side, could I,” Imayoshi remarks. He is one card short of a winning combination. “Besides, you didn’t even say hello when you dropped my workplace the other time. I’m sure you had fun.”

“I did, I really did,” Hanamiya says, then smiles, showing teeth. They glint white in the low-lighted room. “I heard that a friend of mine caused some trouble for you that night, but I left early in the evening, so I don’t have a good idea of what happened. You didn’t hurt him too badly, did you?”

“Of course not,” Imayoshi grins back gamely. “Well, just remember to let me know whenever you’re in the area next time. I’ll make sure that you are given special treatment. VIP service and all.” He’ll bide his time.

There’s a Chinese idiom that Imayoshi’s come across in his time in the Mainland, explained to him once by a wily business partner who hailed from Chengdu and made his fortune in Beijing. “There’s a story,” he describes, face ruddy but still not yet drunk from what has to be his umpteenth shot of Maotai, “about a clam on the shore of a river. Now, the weather’s great, so it’s got its shells wide open, taking a good sunbath, right? And here comes this snipe swooping down and trying to snap away at its meat. The clam’s not stupid. As soon as the snipe’s beak comes into contact with the tender flesh within, the clam snaps its shells shut. So the snipe is trapped. The both of them struggle, not willing to give in to the other. And because they’re so engrossed in their little fight, a fisherman who passes by gets to catch the both of them in his net while they’re not paying attention! And what does that tell you?”

“That it’s always good to be the third party?”

The businessman belches and pours himself another shot. “Well, that’s part of it. The real moral of the story is that you gotta wipe out the competition while they’re busy wrestling with each other! Wipe ‘em all out when they’re not looking. It’s a lesson that applies to big business too. Magnificent, isn’t it? Come here now, aren’t you going to offer me another toast?”

 

*

 

Cheating is a lot like gambling, isn’t it? You get addicted once you succeed for the first time. Then you want to do it a second time, then a third time, and so on. And every time you succeed you up the stakes. You start to believe that you can’t possibly fail. You start to believe that beating the odds is possible every single time. You start to believe that you’ll be able to pull it off each time you do it, even if you know that the game is rigged. Even if you know that someone is watching.

What’s that I’ve told you before about risk? As a rule of thumb, the margin of profit increases with the magnitude of the risk. So does the margin of loss. But I think you already knew that.

Now, I’d like that tie back, if you please. It was a favourite of mine.

 

 

 

IV.

It’s the opening night of the East Crown Casino on the Cotai Strip, in central Macau – a joint venture five years in the making between a Japanese entertainment corporation eager to dip its toes into the profitable industry where gambling is legal, and a longstanding Macanese gaming conglomerate hungry for investment dollars and a desire to maintain its footing against an invasion of competitors from Las Vegas. Situated right from across the famous Vegas-owned Venetian, it is hoped that its generally squeaky-clean part-Japanese roots might help attract more tourists from around the region, especially those who are wary of Macau’s seedy reputation as a breeding ground for sleaze and corruption, and not just from neighbouring China and Hong Kong.

“I still don’t know why you insisted on hitting up this place on its opening night. The place is crawling with security,” Haizaki remarks. Still, he knows he has no cause for concern – Hanamiya’s probably already got the whole plan figured out, right down to the very last detail. The two of them are standing some way away from the entrance, where streams of guests are sauntering over the marble steps. There is no sign of the others, as usual. Haizaki stares up at the building’s glowing façade and lets the neon lights wash over him.

“Well, a good friend of mine works here. Thought I might as well pay him a visit while I’m at it,” Hanamiya replies, looking up at the building. His hands are in his pockets and the expression on his face is strangely fond, though if one looked closer, there’s a wild note of anticipation behind it.

“That had better not throw a spanner in the works,” Haizaki says. “I’ll kill you if you fuck anything up for me.”

Hanamiya smiles at him, showing teeth. Bright streaks of pink and yellow glint off the white.

“Relax, Haizaki-kun,” he says. “Have I ever let you down?”


End file.
